


Branded

by PlumBat



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: AmRev, American Revolution, Flirting, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumBat/pseuds/PlumBat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 700 word pre-relationship Lams fic in response to the prompt "Imagine your favorite historical figure with the worst imaginable sun tan lines" (from http://imagineyourhistoricalfigure.tumblr.com).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Branded

John awoke to the sound of poorly stifled laughter. He cracked an eye, and saw a familiar mud-caked boot next to his face.

"Whuzz so funny?" he mumbled. He pressed his hands into the grass and pushed himself upright, squinting at how bright the day had become. Bright, and just as oppressively hot as it had been all week. Sweat had pooled in the creases of his uniform, and he knew he must stink to high Heaven. But of course, they all did these days. 

"Ohhh John, John I'm so sorry." Alex was sitting cross-legged beside him. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were twinkling and embarrassed at the same time. John tried to scowl at him, but couldn't keep a smirk from creeping onto his own face in response.

"What?"

"It seems... well, we overslept."

John furrowed his brow at this, then yawned, his eyes scrunching closed. He stretched his arms out above his head, and innumerable aches clamored for his attention. He endeavored not to let any of them show in his movements, lest Alex fall to fussing over him yet again. As he lowered his arms, he caught his friend averting his gaze. 

"The General *commanded* us to take a break," John reasoned, "and it only looks to be mid-afternoon. We're fine."

Alex refocused on John's face, and this time worry seemed to have won out over amusement in his expression. 

"John," he ventured, "do I look pink to you?" 

"Yes, very, actually. That's got to sting."

"It does," Alex replied ruefully, grazing his fingers across his cheek. "It's worse on this side, isn't it?"

John examined his friend. 

"Noticeably so. One can tell exactly how you were lying when the sun moved and stole our shade. Ahh." He brought his fingers up to his own face and registered the tenderness. "I've got it too, of course. Well, I can hardly look worse than you." 

"Yes, but the thing is..." Alex shifted closer. He moved his hand slowly towards John's face, as if giving his friend the chance to move away. John stayed still. Alex's hand, when it touched his cheek, was impossibly cool and soothing. Something seized in his chest, and he felt himself utterly paralyzed, rendered helpless by the gentle touch of those fingers, that palm, against his skin. He felt his breath quicken, and fought not to lick his lips. When Alex spoke again, his voice was apologetic and quiet. 

"While we were sleeping, I must have reached out and laid my hand on your face, in just this way. And now the sun has filled in the gaps and painted the outline of my hand upon your cheek. I am so sorry, but I've rendered you a bit ridiculous."

John tried to imagine himself looking as Alex had described, and recognized vaguely that he must indeed be a sight. But all he could focus on was Alex before him, the pale skin on one side of his face contrasting sharply with the pinkness of the other, bright violet eyes staring fixedly at him, and those terribly soft looking lips. He knew he needed to break the spell of this moment. He spoke the first words that came to him. 

"So you've branded me as yours, have you?"

Alex's eyes widened, then seemed to sharpen. 

"I suppose I have," he whispered. And then he tilted his head, pulled his hand away, darted in, and pressed a kiss to the center of John's cheek. A soft huff of surprise escaped John's lips. Before he could react further, Alex was on his feet, hand outstretched. After a moment, John grasped it and was hauled upright, only to have the grip immediately released. Alex turned away quickly and began gathering up his things. 

As John did the same, he spoke as lightly as he could manage. "It's fine, I don't mind the boys having a laugh at my expense. I know you didn't intend it." 

They walked back to the General's tent in silence, and spent the rest of the day absorbed in correspondence. Every now and then, when he was sure he wasn't being observed, John let his hand steal up to touch his cheek.


End file.
